


Underneath The Same Sky

by LevisBrattyCravat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author!Yuuri, Bassist!Christophe, But totally gets darker as the story progresses, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Depressed Katsuki Yuuri, Keyboardist (is that a word;;)!Georgi, Lead guitarist!Yuri, Long-Haired Katsuki Yuuri, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, More tags will be added as the story progresses, Pray for Viktor™️️, Reincarnation AU, Singer!Viktor, Soulmates AU, Start is funny, The Russians are in a band and I regret nothing, Viktor and Yuuri were past lovers, Viktor cuts his hair at some point tbh, Viktor does, Viktor eases Yuuri into the kinks, Viktor is just a lovestruck cinnamon roll, Viktor is...Viktor, Yuuri doesn't remember his past life, Yuuri is a dense idiot™️️, Yuuri is a sad baby and Viktor aims to change that, Yuuri needs a six month vacation from Viktor's bs™️️, gradually gets kinkier and kinkier, lots of fluff, not historically accurate, past suicide attempts, t h e r e w i l l b e k i n k y s m u t, vanilla sex at the start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LevisBrattyCravat/pseuds/LevisBrattyCravat
Summary: Everyone is born with a clock on their chest, counting up to the moment they meet their soulmates. But, for all his life, Yuuri has only remembered his clock remaining at 00:00:00, which he’s decided can only mean one thing: he’s already met his soulmate. But he has no idea who it could be, because everyone he knows has clocks counting up and up, which leaves him worried; what if he never finds the person he’s destined for?Enter Viktor Nikiforov in a horribly cliché disguise of sunglasses and a hoodie at one of Yuuri’s book signing for his fans. As if the man didn’t look suspicious enough, he hands the author a book to sign which, upon opening the first page has the words “I’m sorry I took so long” written in pretty cursive handwriting. He should’ve taken that day as an omen for worse things to come and now it was too late to tell him to get the hell out of his life. Because he was already falling for him. Wherein lay the problem; he already had a soulmate. One that he’s desperately trying to locate, but to no avail. And on the off-chance that Viktor is indeed his soulmate? He didn’t want to risk finding out. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he discovered that Viktor’s clock didn’t read 00:00:00 like his.





	1. Prologue: To You, From 200 Years Ago (smut).

**Author's Note:**

> This is first and foremost a reincarnation AU, which I want you all to keep in mind; the plot twist will focus on that. Though it's not much of a plot twist since most of you will probably figure out what's happening early on, because it follows a similar concept to what happens in the show :') (I also felt the n e e d to write a fic where the babies were soulmates, because Kubo-sensei's recent revelation of just that slayed me; I regret nothing.) Updates will (hopefully) occur weekly on either Wednesdays, or Thursdays and I think it's best if I mark which chapter contain smut just in case people want to skip those over (but really, w h y w o u l d y o u amirite).

“Yuuri… Your name is Yuuri, isn’t it?”    

Looking up from his position on the floor, Yuuri met the handsome face of the master of the house. A rose petal pink blush settling on his cheeks, once his brown eyes met the breathtaking stormy blues of the other’s, the Japanese man lowered his head once more to gaze at the floor he was made to humbly clean.    

“Yes, my name is Yuuri, sir,” he replied quietly in halting Russian. Nervousness spiked in his chest; had he done something wrong? He could see no other reason as to why  _the_  Viktor Nikiforov would so much as look at him, let alone speak to him.    

Though, on some days when he’d be cleaning, he’d notice the handsome man silently watching him over his cup of tea, which had unnerved him, but he would silently continue to work, hoping that the hairs on his arms that had stood on end would flatten soon enough. However, that wasn’t to say that he himself wasn’t without fault. Whenever he’d think Viktor wasn’t looking, he’d steal glances of him; he was far too beautiful to not be admired, Yuuri decided. But he was fated to simply that, envying those that could touch him, gaze at him freely without worries of repercussions, of the men that lightheartedly talked to him and the women that flirted and laughed with him.    

He would never be a part of his world, but simply a man that looked in from the outside. Because he was a mere slave, stolen from his home and bought and auctioned off elsewhere numerous times, before he ended up here. In a part of the world that had left the boy completely isolated, due to their strange customs and his inability to understand what was being said to him. Though, instructions were clear enough in any language.    

Like many slaves, he was prone to being beaten over the smallest things by the masters he had; yet even when he’d messed up in the past, or gotten things wrong, Viktor had not once raised a hand against him. He merely smiled understandingly, before walking away. And Yuuri wasn’t sure which he’d preferred more. He had always been starved of the Russian’s attention and he didn’t know what he had to do to change that.    

Except now, he didn’t have to do anything, because Viktor was talking to him and he had to make sure he didn’t panic, or his heart didn’t beat too fast, or he didn’t faint.   

"Look up,” the silver-haired man commanded, chiding softly, “I want you to look at me when I’m talking to you. It’s no fun speaking to someone otherwise.”   

“S-sorry,” Yuuri stammered, heat rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment, while he lifted his head up once more, meeting the (now) kneeling man smiling in satisfaction at him.    

“Your Russian has improved,” Viktor complimented, which had Yuuri fighting to not lower his head once more. His gaze, however, did drop in bashful modesty. “I remember when you first arrived in this house. You were so timid; you couldn’t say a single word in Russian.” Viktor reached a hand forward, grabbing the boy’s chin and tilting it up to steal his gaze once more. “You’d only look at me when you thought I wouldn’t notice, but in truth...I always did.”    

Eyes widening in horror at the revelation, Yuuri sought to get away from the man, but his hand held him in place, his eyes darting back and forth from place to place. Mouth opening and closing several times, while he tried to find the right words to explain himself (could he explain himself?), Viktor wordlessly watched the flustered boy, amused by the display. However, deciding it best to salvage him from his misery, the Russian murmured, “hush, Yuuri, it’s okay.” A pause, before he admitted, “I’ve been doing the same-”    

What? So he hadn’t just been imagining it?   

“In truth, my thoughts about you haven’t exactly been the most...innocent-”   

 _What?_  No...He was definitely dreaming...or hearing things...daydreaming maybe? But this was not happening. Nope. Not at all.    

“In other words, what I’m trying to say is-”   

 _Stop. Stop right there._    

“I want you, Yuuri.”   

There it was.  _There it was._  What did he say to that? What  _could_  he say to that?   

“I’ve wanted you since I set eyes on you,” Viktor admitted.   

No...this couldn’t be true, could it? No. Definitely not. Was Viktor just stringing him along?    

“But I didn’t want to scare you away, or make you hate me for taking you without your consent. I don’t just want you for sex, Yuuri. I want all of you. So, I guess...right now is me asking if you’ll let me have you.”   

Silence heavier than a church bell descended upon the both of them, suffocating the aristocrat, as if his enemy had wrapped his hands around his neck, squeezing and squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. Meanwhile, the raven-haired boy remained silent, trying to piece together what had just happened and whether he was dreaming or not. Had he fallen asleep at some point and didn’t realise it? He had to wake up before Viktor found him…    

But, if he could, just for a little longer, he wanted to remain in this dream.     

So, swallowing thickly, before Viktor could speak once again, Yuuri mumbled, “I-I don’t know if this is a dream or not-”   

The silver-haired aristocrat opened his mouth in protest, about to tell the Japanese boy that this indeed wasn’t a dream, but Yuuri continued to talk, not giving Viktor a chance to do just that.    

“But, I don’t want to wake up from it...not yet…” The raven-haired boy’s gaze fell in bashfulness, as he continued to say, “I...I want to be yours, if you want me to be.”   

Viktor didn’t need to hear it twice.    

Scooping the boy into his arms, filthy clothes and all, he carried the Japanese beauty into his bedroom, resting him on his bed, before pressing a kiss to those lips he’d been craving to kiss ever since he’d set his eyes on him. He didn’t wait; how could he when he’d been yearning for just this for the longest time? How could he when everything he’d wanted embodied the boy sitting on his bed now, all exotic, but innocent in his allure.    

And it was for good reason; because Yuuri didn’t want him to slow down either, though his feelings for the man had taken a little longer to develop. He couldn’t remember when the envious admiration had turned to something more, but simply that at some point it had. As if it had always been there, hovering over and around him, as invisible as air; he could feel it, but never see it.   

Hands slid up his shirt, pulling it off without a single word, and Yuuri let him. For just one day he’d let himself succumb to the seduction of Viktor Nikiforov, even if nothing came out of it. Yet, at the back of his mind, like a worm burrowing through an apple, a thought ate away at him, telling him that nothing good could come out of this, that Viktor would go back to being his master after he’d had his way with him. And even though he knew that would be the case, that he’d never be Viktor’s like he wanted to be, Yuuri still let it happen. Because he wanted,  _needed_ , him.     

Heated, wet lips pressed against Yuuri’s skin, leaving a trail of nips and suckles all over his neck, rendering embarrassing moans from the Japanese boy’s lips. A deep, ruby red blush heating his cheeks, Yuuri let out a cry of, “master!”    

And it was then Viktor paused, pulling away for a second with a frown painting his features.    

“Just Viktor will do. I want you to call me that from now on, understood?”   

Eyes hazy with desire and lust, Yuuri barely processed what the other was telling him, or what it implied, simply giving a small, compliant nod, because he’d do absolutely  _anything_  to have those lips pressed against his skin once more. And Viktor was all too eager to give the boy just what he wanted, pushing him down onto the bed, once he was satisfied with his response.   

Lips pressed against skin again, while the aristocrat's hands ran up and down the other's sides, rendering moans that had him shivering from arousal. Sliding a hand up to Yuuri's nipple, teasing it between his index and middle finger, his mouth descended on the other one, suckling and biting it and causing the boy to whimper and cry out in ecstasy. Fingers sliding into silver hair, Yuuri let out a soft, breathy, "V-Viktor...", testing the name on his lips. And with that, Viktor tugged on the poor boy's nipples, causing a gasp of surprise to fall from those cotton-soft lips, before the silver-haired man went back to suckling with more fervor on the boy's sensitive buds. Trailing his free hand down to slide into Yuuri's trousers, Viktor suddenly grabbed Yuuri's length, causing the boy's body to jolt and his grip on his hair to tighten, as he once again whimpered his name.   

Pulling away from his love for a second time, the aristocrat gazed down at the display before him, of a thin frame panting and eyes that gazed up at him with unhidden wanton desire. And all he could think was, how did he manage to survive without this for so long? Why hadn't he decided to do this sooner?  

But, he supposed he knew the answer to that.   

Because, beneath those molten chocolate eyes that gazed up at him with unhidden hunger and desperation, there was a vulnerability Viktor didn't have the heart to exploit. The boy had been taken from his homeland, treated harshly by god knows how many that came before him, being sold and bought, sold and bought over and over again, before finally being gifted to a Russian aristocrat. He was in a country he didn't know, completely isolated from everyone else, thrust into customs of a culture he was alien to. And when he'd set eyes on the heartbroken boy, those dark eyes betraying a soul that was weary and yearned for rest, Viktor knew that he simply couldn't hurt this boy any further. He couldn't be the monster he likely saw him as.  

And so, from that first fateful day to here...to the now, with the same boy gazing up at him with gleaming eyes and reddened cheeks; how had it come to this? How had he managed to change that weariness, that sheer  _fear_  of him to adoration, to desire? He didn't know.   

But, whilst pulling off his servant's trousers, Viktor decided he didn't care. What mattered now was that he had him. And he didn't intend to let him slip from his fingers.   

"Beautiful..." The aristocrat murmured, lightly running his fingers down the boy's body, rendering a shiver to run down the other's spine.   

With that simple word, Viktor descended upon the boy once more, placing kiss upon kiss on every inch of his skin that he could reach with his lips, rendering the Japanese servant's heart a fluttering mess.   

Melting. He was melting. Or was he burning up? Could he be doing both? Was it possible?    

Yuuri couldn't describe it. It was simply... Euphoric. Euphoric, yet tender. He couldn't compare it to anything he'd experienced, so used to a heavy hand and cruel words by those above him. But those lips rendered him mute, gazing up at the ceiling of the bed with wide eyes brimming with tears of unadulterated joy. How had it come to this? How was it possible that Viktor,  _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, one of the most desirable bachelors in all of Russia should want a mere humble foreign servant such as himself?   

It shouldn't have been possible. Yet it was. He could feel it all; he could feel the affection, the sheer adoration Viktor felt for him by those lips as soft as rose petals.   

And when that mouth descended on him, giving him little time to prepare for the heat that encased his length without warning, Yuuri cried out as suddenly as Viktor's head now being buried between his legs. Hips jolting up at the action, Viktor quickly grabbed him, pressing him onto the bed and pulling away to look up at the boy, smiling in a way that had Yuuri's breath catch in his throat, those eyes that gazed at him burning like bright blue fire.   

"Let me take care of you today, Yuuri," the aristocrat murmured, saying his name as if it were something beautiful, as if it was to be cherished. As if he felt pride in being able to roll his name on his tongue, tasting it with every part of his mouth, before releasing the sound. "Don't worry. I'll teach you everything. Slowly. Thoroughly."  

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, those burning blue eyes narrowed, cunning mischief and dark desire smouldering in them. And Yuuri could only shiver underneath those eyes that unveiled everything Viktor had always wanted to do to him, would do to him.   

Swallowing thickly, the boy murmured nonetheless, "I...I want to know how to please you. I want to-"  

Again, without warning, Viktor's mouth engulfed him once more, causing the boy to gasp and cry out, his eyes widening once more. Instinctively gripping onto Viktor's silky silver strands, Yuuri, breathed out, "w-wait- wait! Please...  _Please_ listen! Ah...Viktor!"   

But his master wasn't having any of it, his mouth tightening around him, as he sucked and moved his head at a pace that had the poor boy seeing stars.   

"Viktor!" Yuuri cried, "Ah... _please_!" He begged, but for what, he didn't know, just that he needed  _something_.   

Like a coil, hot and charged, tightening and tightening in the pit of his stomach, Yuuri's moans became louder and louder, his body tensing and relaxing, as he neared completion.   

But such a thing never came.   

Because, just as he was about to release, Viktor pulled away, an enigmatic smile playing across his lips. Placing a final lick teasingly up the boy's length, he pulled away, licking his lips and murmuring, "absolutely delicious."   

Hazy confusion and desperation for release clouded the Japanese boy's eyes, as he looked up at Viktor, mumbling, "wh-what..."   

As if in reply, the aristocrat started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes not leaving his lover's for a second, as he murmured, "you will cum when I tell you to. And you aren't allowed to right now. Because I've only just started with you, my love."   

Shirt coming off and sliding to the floor to reveal a body toned and chiseled to perfection, Yuuri breathed in sharply, not being able to hide his arousal at the display of pale skin and defined muscles.   

"Lie back and let me do everything for now, you'll have your chance to seduce me later," the silver-haired aristocrat winked at his lover.   

Breathing heavily from all that had happened, Yuuri met eyes with Viktor, his need, his helpless desperation for the other all too clear, as he forced out the words, "please Viktor...please...I- I need you now...I-"  

"Ah..." Viktor breathed heavily, watching his lover writhe in sheer, unrestrained desire for him, "you really know all the right things to say to stir me up, Yuuri...don't think you're leaving this room being able to walk on those pretty legs of yours." Grabbing one of the boy's "pretty legs" and lifting it so it rested on his shoulder, Viktor pressed a kissed to his inner thigh, a devious smirk spreading across his lips, as he purred, "I'll make sure to take care of you...thoroughly today."   

Before his lover could respond, Viktor had reached over into a drawer, grabbing a bottle of oil he kept there for just this purpose, pouring some onto his hand. Rubbing his hands together to spread it, the silver-haired man gazed into the face of his Japanese lover, hesitating for a moment, once he saw him covering his face with both his hands.  

Thin silver eyebrows creasing in concern, while a frown formed on his lips, Viktor asked the boy, "Yuuri...what's wrong? Am I going too fast? Should I stop? I'm sorry if I've upset you, my love." 

Shaking his head vigorously in response, Yuuri lowered his hands so he gazed at his master from the top of the tips of his fingers, admitting in a quiet mumble, "n-no it's just...embarrassing." 

The aristocrat blinked once. Twice. Before finally he broke into an amused chuckle, reaching a hand down to the boy's entrance and lightly circling it, causing him to squirm at the sudden touch.  

"We're going to be doing more embarrassing things than this, my love. Don't hide your face. I want to see all the expressions you make." 

By habit more than anything, Yuuri forced his hands down, wondering what he should be doing with them, before Viktor saved him the distress of embarrassing himself further by instructing, "put your arms around me. Hold onto me as tightly as you can. I'm going to open you up, okay?"  

They both knew that Yuuri wasn't a virgin in the least; he'd been through this countless times. But this time, it was different. It was personal. It was filled with a _love_  that the boy had stopped believing in a long time ago. This was Viktor's love for him, even though he'd never done anything to warrant such a thing.  

Giving a small nod in affirmation that his silver-haired lover could continue, Viktor slowly eased a finger into Yuuri, watching him intently for any signs of pain or discomfort, moving his finger in and out of him it a gentle pace to lessen the discomfort as much as he could. It was obvious by his facial expression that it wasn't necessarily a pleasant feeling for his servant, but the boy made no noise of complaint; this was far better than what he was used to. It was only when Viktor inserted a second finger, curling them so they brushed against a small bundle of nerves deep inside him that Yuri suddenly jolted, a loud, unbridled sound of sheer pleasure tearing from his throat, his eyes having widened. For a moment, the boy couldn't believe the electricity that had coursed so suddenly through his body at such a simple movement, or even that it had caused him to make a noise that didn't sound like him at all.  

But Viktor was smiling.  

And he continued to smile his reserved, cryptic smile, whilst pressing against those nerves once again, whilst simultaneously stretching the boy out, in preparation to enter him. While Yuuri moaned wantonly, his back rising from the bed, Viktor shifted uncomfortably, his own neglected length weeping at the simple sight of the boy in pure, unadulterated ecstasy.  

Finally, after a few minutes, the silver-haired Russian pulled out his fingers from his lover, bringing the boy to tilt his head to look at him tiredly, whilst saying, "do I finally get to feel you inside me now?" 

And with those words, Viktor fought to keep control of himself, his restraint fraying with each expression, each sound, each _word_  to leave his cunning little Japanese lover. Gripping tightly onto the other's thigh, to the point his nails left red, crescent-shaped marks on the porcelain-smooth skin, the Russian muttered, "Yuuri...I wonder whether you're doing this on purpose..."  

Grabbing his length with his spare hand, Viktor's eyes met Yuuri's, before slowly fluttering shut, as he leaned down and pressed his lips against the other's, entering into him whilst doing so. Immediately, Yuuri clenched around him, causing the Russian to groan and mutter against his lips, "relax, Yuuri...you're so tight already..." Another groan, as his lover whimpered softly, but let up around him nonetheless. "Does it hurt?" He asked, "I can stop, if you want." 

Yuuri shook his head, peeling his eyes open to look up into the painfully handsome face of his lover, mumbling, "no...it feels good, V-Viktor," he stuttered the name, still not used to the feel of it on his lips, "more...I want more...please?" He implored, gazing up at the Russian with hopeful eyes.  

Sighing heavily, Viktor breathed out, "ah...Yuuri...you really just make me...lose my mind." And with those words, the Russian suddenly rammed the whole of his length into the boy, rendering a loud, shameless cry to leave those lips that he descended on once again, placing feverish kiss upon feverish kiss on them.  

And so, the two made love to each other, while the last of the snow fell from outside Viktor's window, settling on the garden and blanketing it in shades of soft white. It was hours afterwards that the two were completely and utterly spent, lying glued to each other with disheveled hair and flushed faces, placing lazy kisses on each other's lips.  

"You know..." Viktor murmured, caressing his lover's cheek with his fingers, "when you were brought to my house, my clock stopped. And I knew that it was you I was waiting for." 

"What...it did?" The boy asked in surprise, staring down at his own clock and gasping, "I didn't notice..." 

Viktor couldn't help but let out a small laugh, replying with, "I was always searching for my soulmate, which was why I held so many parties...before I met you." 

There it was again. That tender smile that never failed to set Yuuri's heart aflutter.  

"I stopped checking mine a long time ago," the Japanese boy admitted quietly, rendering Viktor to gaze at him in silent contemplation.  

Playfully flipping him over, so he lay underneath him once more, the Russian pressed a teasing kiss to his lips, before pulling away and murmuring, "it doesn't matter. Now that I have you, I'm not going to let you slip away from me. Stay close to me, Yuuri. Please." 

And as Yuuri nodded and threw his arms around his lover, the winter sun streamed through Viktor's window, glistening off their sweat-soaked skins, having bore witness to the purest love it would ever find.  


	2. 'I'm Sorry I Took So Long.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri has a book signing, which takes a turn for the weird. Viktor realises a crucial truth.

A quaint bookshop joined to a coffee bar. The quiet whirring of the coffee machine, as it served customers queuing to get their fill of caffeine while they waited for the door to open, the line reaching outside. A boy with silky black hair tied up in a messy half-ponytail sitting at a table decorated with posters of his latest book, several copies of said book sitting to his right. A woman with bright brown eyes and a brighter smile on her face, going over what was required of the boy while he was here. The gentle tapping of half-bitten nails on the table surface. The store staff surrounding him, eager to so much as catch a glimpse of the famed man. The beating of his heart in his chest, as he mentally prepared himself to greet his readers, the bob of his Adam’s apple giving away his nervousness. 

Yuuri forced himself to meet eyes with Yuuko Nishigori, who returned it with a more sympathetic expression, murmuring, “I appreciate you doing this, Yuuri. If it gets too much though, I’ll be right beside you and you can tell me. We’ll take a break every hour, okay?” Her gaze flicked to the people eagerly waiting with a copy of their favourite book in their hands. “Everyone’s so excited to meet you,” the woman complimented, flashing him an encouraging smile, “we’re all at your service today, so do your best.” 

Yuuri gave a small nod in response, mumbling, “yeah... though these events are always so tiring.” He paused, biting his lip, before continuing, “you can open the doors now, if you want. I know you guys are waiting for me, but I’ll be fine.” 

Yuuko hesitated, not wanting to put the boy through more stress than was necessary. Yuuri wasn’t fragile in the least, but it was in the fact that he was so determined to do everything by himself that made people want to look after him even more. However, the woman knew when to trust him and give him his space; so, giving a small nod, she went over to the manager, confirming that they were indeed ready to receive people. 

And so, the glass doors connecting to the coffee shop opened, allowing in the people that had been waiting hours on end to meet the famed author. Forcing a friendly smile onto his face, Yuuri met the first person, exchanging words of gratitude and answering small questions as briefly as he could. It wasn’t that he disliked talking to his fans, whilst he signed their books, but it was just…difficult for him to accept all this attention he was given. Authors like him were a dime a dozen; just like the falling leaves outside, Yuuri wasn’t anything special, so this fame he received was undeserved. At least, that was how he felt. Modest to a fault, the Japanese boy truly believed that these books he’d written could’ve been written by anyone, and done better by someone more competent. 

These people... he didn't deserve their praise, their loyalty to him; but he was grateful for every ounce of it he received. Each fan that greeted him so cheerfully with admiration sparkling in their eyes, not realising that he was as ordinary as any other person that they'd find on the street. There was nothing special about him; this pedestal that he was put on by both those close to him as well as his fans made the boy grit his teeth and clench his fists. No one seemed to understand his underwhelming feelings about himself, merely saying to him, "well Yuuri, you've read your work over and over again. Of course you're not going to like it, but that doesn't mean it isn't good." 

He couldn't disagree. But he couldn't agree either. Whenever he'd write something and reread it countless times, a single thought always remained, like a haunting ghost whispering in his ear that it wasn't good enough, that he could do better, that no one would like it. But, even though Yuuri would have spent months and years refining his books, deadlines meant that he had no such luxury. So, the author would end up handing in work that he wasn't happy with, nor proud of. And now that he thought about it, he couldn't say he'd ever been proud of anything he'd given in; even though it made him dissatisfied, Yuuri grew to believe that he would always feel such a way. 

Sighing heavily, the author raised his head and greeted the next fan; how many had there been already? How many more did he have to go? He shouldn't check, Yuuri decided; it would only dishearten him. It was best to simply plough through things that made him uncomfortable, as he usually did. 

So, while the summer rain fell outside, pattering softly on the pavement and drenching those that had been unlucky enough to not bring an umbrella, Yuuri spent hours and hours signing books and keeping a smile on his face to the point his cheeks hurt. Of course, as promised, he'd received short breaks every hour where he would drink water, use the bathroom, and freshen up in general, but his opinion on these sorts of events didn't change whatsoever. Yuuri did this because it was required of him. Not because he necessarily enjoyed it. 

Finally, the rain started letting up, the clouds dispersing to reveal the sun slowly setting and causing the sky to be painted with breathtaking hues of pinks, oranges and golds, the light flooding in through the glass doors and into Yuuri's eyes. Squinting somewhat, while the final book was set down before him, the author almost missed the small message written in the most beautiful cursive writing he'd seen, so conditioned to simply and quickly sign off his name, before moving onto the next one. 

English. It was written in English. What Japanese person would feel the need to write in English, when he himself was Japanese? Why make more work for themself? 

Ah... His English was rusty... What did it say...? 

'I'm... sorry...' 

'I'm sorry'? This was off to a good start. 

'I... took... so long.' 

'I'm sorry I took so long.' 

He didn't know why, but that simple phrase had Yuuri's breath hitching and his heart hammering away in his chest. What was he feeling right now? Fear? Anticipation? He couldn't tell. But more importantly, who was this person? What sort of person wrote such a ridiculous phrase? What did it even mean? 

Raising his head to look up at the person responsible for writing something so... disturbing, Yuuri was met with a man in a pathetic disguise of a pulled up grey hoodie and sunglasses that hid his eyes. The sun beaming into his face, he couldn't make out much of the other's features; but from what he could see, an unimpressed expression passed over the author's face, the raven-haired boy opening his mouth to say something. 

However, before he could, he was cut off but a gasp from behind him. Both men turning their heads to see Yuuko's hands covering her mouth in shock, the woman exclaimed, "you're Viktor Nikiforov!" 

All eyes turned to the mysterious man standing in front of Yuuri. 

And in that moment, the world seemed to still for a single second that seemed to drag on too long, the mass of fans that were still present digesting the news during that time. 

Then suddenly, as if a champagne had been uncorked after being shaken for too long, those present erupted in screams and shouts. 

Stiffening once he heard the screams, the suspicious man turned to Yuuri, bringing the boy to gaze at him in apprehension and mistrust. Suddenly grabbing his wrist, the author's eyes widened, as he exclaimed, "what are you doing?!" 

But, if Viktor didn't understand him, or simply didn't care, Yuuri couldn't decipher. The only thing running through his mind was, why on Earth was he pulling him along while he decided to run? It seemed these fans that were storming towards them, he shared with the internationally famous singer, but Yuuri was intent on blaming Viktor for this. They hadn't lost their minds when they were queuing up to meet him. So why was he being dragged into this? 

It was too late to do anything about it now, the author decided. But once they stopped, he was sure to give this man a piece of his mind. He didn't care that he was internationally famous, or that he'd sold 100 million records worldwide, or that he was incredibly, unfairly handsome... 

Well, he might care just a little about the last part. But it was difficult to come across someone that didn't find the Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov attractive; so Yuuri wanted to say he was justified in possibly wanting the man to maybe press his lips onto his. Of course, that didn't mean he would excuse him for simply waltzing into the room with one of the laziest, poorest attempts at a disguise he'd ever seen, resulting in being discovered in the process. 

Though, he supposed it wasn't so bad, being pulled along by this man who was all silky silver hair and chiseled features. 

… Was what he wanted to say. But the reality was, Yuuri was out of shape, since an author wasn't exactly required to look good, just as long as their books sold well; so the boy had never really given much thought into his physique or staying healthy. A fact which he truly regretted now. Because even though Viktor was doing just fine running in front of him, whilst dragging him along, Yuuri was starting to get out of breath. And there was the problem of the fans that were chasing after them, the screeching, screaming noises coming from behind them making the author's head ring. So, no matter how he looked at it, if Yuuri didn't say something soon, Viktor would be witnessing a very unattractive side of him that knelt on all fours and wheezed like an old man that had been smoking his whole life. 

But, as if sensing his discomfort, Viktor turned his head in the slightest, his eyes still being veiled by those ridiculous sunglasses he wore, noting the author struggling to keep up with him. Suddenly turning a corner, the singer grabbed the handle of the first door he came across, shoving it open and pulling the both of them inside. Shutting the door swiftly behind them, Viktor pressed Yuuri against the wall, silencing him with a hand resting on his mouth firmly. 

A deep crimson colouring his cheeks, Yuuri's eyes flicked up to gaze into the handsome face of the man his body was pressed against. Though, it seemed as if it was only him getting flustered over the situation, since Viktor was as calm and composed as he always appeared. With his heart hammering away in his chest, while the two hid in the confines of a room far too small and dim to house anyone, both men waited for the horde of screaming fans to pass. His head pressed against the door, Yuuri could hear them outside, asking each other where they'd gone; though he knew they were more interested in finding Viktor. A fact he wasn't bitter for, just annoyed that he'd gotten dragged into the other's mess. 

Finally, once the noise outside seemed to subside, Yuuri pushed Viktor off him, glaring at the other, while he gazed back at him with confusion. 

"Yuuri-" Viktor started, his smooth, lulling voice being cut off by a very angry Japanese man. 

"Why are you here?" Yuuri demanded, before shaking his head and backtracking, "no, I should be asking, how do you know who I am? You're Viktor Nikiforov. Why would you come to a random author's book signing?" 

His heart still hammering away in his chest, but for a completely different reason, anxiety spiked in him once his sudden burst of anger had been released. It had been a few months since he'd been required to speak English, but he hoped he'd gotten his less than agreeable feelings across as clearly as he could. Judging from the sudden silence, it could go either way. 

As if realising something, Viktor gave the boy an enigmatic smile, murmuring, "ah... well. I'm a fan, Yuuri. I've been reading your books for a while and finally had some free time, so I decided to come to your book signing. I wanted to come meet you earlier, but my schedule is usually so busy, so today was the only day I could really come. Should I not have?" 

Scepticism painted the face of the Japanese author while the Russian rambled, but nonetheless, with his anger subsided, all that was left was the sheer fear of looking idiotic in front of a man so successful and desirable as Viktor. Despite how... eccentric he came across. 

Though, it didn't stop him from mumbling, "if you wanted to come, you could've chosen a better disguise." 

"Hm? What's wrong with my disguise?" 

Yuuri deadpanned at the response, only being able to gaze at him absolutely and utterly dumbfounded, while he wondered where he should even start to explain all that was wrong with the question. And thus his 'disguise'. 

"What? Why are you staring at me like that? I thought no one would recognise me if I wore this," the Russian paused, "though... I guess that woman did realise it was me pretty quickly..." He trailed off into contemplative silence, before deciding, "ah. She probably just has really good eyesight." 

Was he serious? Did he really have so much faith in his shoddily put together disguise? To whatever god that was up there, please give him strength, Yuuri thought, while he gazed at the other with distrust gleaming in his chocolate eyes. 

"No, it was definitely your terrible disguise..." The author mumbled, still not quite believing someone could be so oblivious. 

"You wound me, Yuuri" the singer lamented. Before, the air around him shifted so suddenly, crackling with electricity, it caught the boy off guard. Narrowing his bright blue eyes at him, Viktor murmured, "but... it doesn't matter anymore." Reaching a hand towards the Japanese author, he grabbed Yuuri's chin, leaning forward, so their lips were mere inches apart. Eyes speaking of desires left shown rather than spoken, the Russian breathed against his mouth, "I've finally found you now. And I don't intend to let you run away from me. Yuuri...I-" 

Viktor paused, his eyes widening for a split second, once he realised it wasn't recognition, or the desire that would've surely come with it, that he found in his lover's eyes. Rather, it was simply... nothing. It was worry, it was panic, it was everything it had been when Yuuri had first come to him 200 years ago, standing at his door, frail and vulnerable. 

Which meant Yuuri didn't remember him. 

And with that realisation, Viktor's heart, which he'd been barely keeping together, shattered. This wasn't his Yuuri. This wasn't the boy he'd spent countless night underneath the Russian sky holding and kissing and making love to. 

This was the author Katsuki Yuuri. This was a boy who didn't know him save for the fact that he sang in a band, and even that he knew because his band was famous worldwide. This Yuuri didn't care for him. 

This Yuuri didn't love him. 

Gritting his teeth, Viktor forced himself to let him go, bringing his hand to his side once more all too unwillingly. Pulling back from his love- Yuuri, Viktor's lips stretched into a smile, before they had a choice. 

"Ah... what am I doing," he murmured, more to himself than the author, "sorry, Yuuri. I took advantage of you when I shouldn't have. You're just really... cute, so I couldn't help wanting to tease you a little. I won't hurt you," Viktor promised sincerely, "and I won't do anything you don't want me to." He paused, "so let me make it up to you. It's getting late now and I bet you're hungry. You probably didn't have time to eat, right? I'll take you out to wherever you want to go. That way, we'll call it even," and with those words, the Russian shot Yuuri a playful wink. 

It wasn't that Yuuri necessarily feared the singer that stood in front of him; in truth, as far as he could see, he was harmless, but it was just that something about him made him apprehensive. Viktor was handsome, and wealthy, and had a voice that could make angels swoon; this whole ordeal didn't make sense to him. As far as he knew, Viktor shouldn't even know he existed. They lived in two completely different spheres. So, he didn't understand why the Russian singer was telling him all this. Why was he implying that this wouldn't be the last time he saw of him? Why did it seem so important to him that he explain himself? 

Yet, even though Yuuri had all these reservations, when he gazed into those eyes that seemed to burn bright in the darkness surrounding them, he could only see sincerity in them. Sincerity and something more... Something he couldn't quite place. But it was that something that had him giving a small nod against all logic and reasoning telling him otherwise, the boy replying with, "we should get out of here first, then." 

The genuine smile that spread across Viktor's face at his answer was worth it all, Yuuri decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have stayed up a little too late writing this chapter;; I wanted to make it humorous somewhat, but I think that may have been thwarted with just how the two babes decided to interact. Yuuri's feelings as an author are quite relatable, I feel, at least to me they are; he'd be the sort of author who's never happy with his work, in my opinion and that's a truth for many of us who write. I really hope I was able to capture that well, but I don't know; just like Yuuri, i'm not usually satisfied with my writing, b u t I'm aiming to break free of the habit of overediting. With that being said though, I do hope people take pleasure in reading my work ^^

**Author's Note:**

> So...I'm not going to lie, this chapter was kind of an excuse for me to write some wholesome Viktuuri smut, but really, that's what this whole fic is >.> in any case, I hope you guys enjoyed it and I hope it wasn't too confusing; I'm sorry if it was x.x I'm a sucker for reincarnation AUs and soulmate AUs, sssooo..this was the result. The next chapter is when the story really starts and becomes a little more upbeat, before descending into a n g s t. Also, all my chapters are unbeta'd, so if there's typos and general errors, I'm sorry x.x if anyone would like to beta though, I'm always looking for some! Well, I think that's all, so... Till next time, then, my loves!


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